Tear Streaked Seas
by ibuberu
Summary: She watched the sky pass her by, and her hair turn from black to grey. — Chuck and his wife.


**world** – game  
**notes** – musical prompt thing for pokeprompt community on lj, sorry for the ugly formatting but ffnet isn't being nice, anyway please enjoy!

* * *

**Tear Streaked Seas **

1. Lost My Music, Aya Hirano  
_Deep in my sleep, my dream brings back memories of "One day".  
There, I realized that your words contained a few lies. _

She remembered large, capable hands wrapping securely around her pale, frail fingers. A huge, sincere smile that graced that chiselled face and strong, toned arms that could break down defiant walls and calm her uncontrollable heart. She remembered days spent in a house that was only empty during the day, bursting with humbling and precious companionship at night.

The woman clenched her hands together, lacing her fingers as she walked back and forth in front of the gym of the seaside city, listening to the song of the ocean and taking in the salty scent rolling in from the east, feeling the blistering sand. Clad in a magenta kimono that fell to her ankles, streaked with petals of a flower she would never know – for she was not the one that had purchased the silk, seven-year old clothing. Only one other person she knew could remember her measurements, and her fingers buried themselves into the comfort of the flowing sleeves as she withstood the glare of the afternoon sun.

Things she did not want to remember pervaded her mind, barging through the barriers she had hopelessly set up, bringing them down with powerful fists and intimidating roars. Of one-person dinners and quiet nights with no exchange of words, hours spent waiting outside a gym with a built-in waterfall (where was the money for their second honeymoon?) for someone who refused to come out.

The aged female stared at the trail of footsteps she had imprinted upon the sandy ground, deep etches of small, nimble feet in wooden sandals that weren't made for this sort of waiting game. She wandered over to the edge of the sea, closing her eyes and breathing in reminders of fuller days with gruff shouts and large bear hugs – of a wedding held in the audience of ambient ocean waves amid a gathering of select individuals, where a man with a heart that outdid the size of his biceps had promised to be with her for the rest of their days.

In the caress of the sympathetic wind, she saw a hazy recollection of his smiling face and his determined eyes, the reality in his promise – and found the hope to walk back to the gym and wait for him to come out and collect a lunch packed with rice and vegetables, reluctance and confusion and perhaps a lingering, inerasable portion of love mixed in with the steamed tofu.

* * *

2. Little Bird, Chiaki Ishikawa  
_Let me hold a branch to become your guidepost  
In my mouth, and drop it at your feet  
So that that little one on the opposite bank won't lose her way _

He had been eager, almost like a child. Hanging a protective arm over her shoulders and accounting for the safety of each and every step she took around the quaint little town. They never stopped going to the coast, and he led her carefully through the ankle-deep water to let her experience the watery embrace that she loved (the second best in the world, for he had the most wonderful hugs). And at that time, his hands around her scrawny wrists and supporting her aching back, she shined in the glamour of love, one grateful hand stroking the bump on her belly.

He had been loud in his exclamation, for a man of such dependable stature and strong build could have only been made up of pride. He proclaimed to all the townsfolk about the arrival of an infant in the coming months, basking in the cheering and applause the people babied him with. There had been playful roughhousing between the men, though her husband would always end up at the top of the stack of piled, groaning bodies.

The women had become consumed with excited chatter, chiming at her and asking politely to touch her belly. She always agreed, forever hoping for them to feel the wonder he did whenever he placed a gentle hand upon her womb.

He was there at the first kick, catching her as her shoulders jerked – the next instant, crouching next to her and holding his ear next to the growing infant, cheek leaning against the pink material of her favourite kimono. The smile that touched his face rivalled that of the first time they had kissed, made love, married – it was breathtaking and it made her cheeks flush and her heart soar to impossible heights in her chest.

They had been contented and naïve then, he would take many breaks during the day to visit her, always closing his gym early to hold her in his arms.

* * *

Now, he never took breaks. Sometimes he trained up to twenty-four hours in a day nonstop and it nearly ripped her heart to shreds. The gym was now open for twenty hours usually, and whenever her stomach hurt, she immediately recalled the image of his face in his hands, sitting next to her hospital bed :

The whole world had been starch white except for the crystal tears leaking from his eyes as he held her limp, sweaty hand.

"But she was kicking!" he had sputtered, and the solemn white doctor was bowled back by a roundhouse punch.

"But she was kicking, damn it!" a deafening roar reached her throbbing ears, and the world rapidly descended into a pit of eternal darkness.

* * *

Her heart always ended up stinging more than that searing pain that had invaded and ravaged her womb.

* * *

3. The Farthest End, Miku Hatsune  
_On a day with a sky like this,  
without a cloud it seems so bottomless  
It looks empty and depressing,  
what a perfect day for parting _

"I'm not coming home for dinner tonight," he told her, crossing his muscular arms in front of his chest and regarding her with an iron gaze that she recognized with composed familiarity. He would not be easily swayed, and she had fallen in love with that part of his character. She smiled and nodded her head understandingly, eyes brightening as he pressed his calloused palm against her forehead and brushed strands of deep black hair back to grin directly at her in his characteristic form of 'thank you'.

That was the first time.

She had stopped counting the nights after they reached three hundred.

From then on, she subjected herself to packing boxed meals for him, a person who suddenly refused to eat with her and look at her for any more than a few passing minutes. Was she getting too old for him to rediscover his love, or was she just depressing to witness and tolerate? As she sliced the cucumbers and threw the rice into the cooker, her brow furrowed. She tried to find the bottle of soy sauce, turning to see it perched on the top shelf overlooking the clean, polished sink. She attempted to reach out a hand to grab it, only to realise she was a few inches short of the mark.

Had he been around, he could have easily snatched it off its mocking oak throne.

But she never did find the courage to tell him to help her, to come back to the cold emptiness of what had been their home, but now had been reduced to a normal house with two levels and glass windows collecting flecks of dust. And she never did have the strength to cry it out – to burst into tears and let her emotions flow along with them. She couldn't find the strength in herself to do that, the days spent under the watch of the sun, seated on a sharp rock near the entrance of the gym had dried her eyes of all possible tears.

She watched the sky pass her by, and her black hair turn gradually to grey.

* * *

4. Kimi ni Todoke, Tomofumi Tanizawa  
_So many times I've felt like crying, but then laughed instead  
Rather than thinking about it, hurry up  
It's fine if you just fly into my heart  
To connect to you, to reach you  
_

The days spent outside the Cianwood gym did wonders to her body. The sweat made her slim, and her skin was an almost exotic tan shade in comparison to the paler visitors that frequented the island. She tried her best to search for a place where the grass that thrived was greener, and though only literal sand occupied their town, she found delight in smiling at the children and conversing with the locals.

She found outlets in telling passer-bys about her husband and his irresponsibility, laughing it off with them even though something significantly tiny had already been wedged deep into the veins of her heart. One particular afternoon, when a young girl with a white hat and adorable overalls stepped over to observe the gym, the woman resumed her routinely speech: about husbands who always trained, about trainers who could never defeat them (unheard whispers of how she wished someone would just break the irritating, numbing pattern).

And that little child did it – she defeated him, and it was the first time in months she had had the chance to see her husband open the doors and lead the challenger out with a humiliated smile and friendly eyes.

There it was – something to expand upon, a bait to draw her husband out even more, to glimpse his satisfied face and actually talk to him. The woman immediately embraced the child and shoved a helpful HM into her arms as a deserving reward. She never did learn the name of the girl, but she passed her his number, in hopes of future endeavours.

And every Wednesday now, she rejoiced at the sight of seeing her husband step out of the towering metal doors of his gym to make a trip to Saffron City. He took the time to talk to her and smile and laugh like a husband should have. She examined him from head to toe, scrutinizing the pounds he had packed and quickly nipping at them with sharp words and a hint of a loving smile that had long been out of from use.

She smiled and made a mental note to give the child another thank you if she ever saw her again – for she was the one who had re-established their connection.

* * *

5. Here We Go Again, Demi Lovato  
_Hard as I try I know I can't quit  
Something about you  
Is so addictive _

The day she stopped waiting outside his gym was the day she snapped.

It was also the day he came out of those evil, greedy doors in the middle of the morning, not looking for an expectant meal tucked away in a plastic container decorated with stale love and expired happiness.

She was squatting at within the lapses of the sea in her pink kimono, one finger dipped in the light current, swaying along with the insistence of the water. Her dark brown eyes had pinned themselves to the canvas of the bright blue sky, and she absently asked herself why she was still wearing the horrendous kimono, it was tattered and strewn with clumsy stitches and had suffered under years of hand-washing. She took in a deep breath of the sea and listened to the persuasion of the breeze, telling her to just let everything go and cross the ocean under its guidance. –

Experience the world she had locked herself away from, for it must have changed within the last fifteen years.

But suddenly, two large arms wrapped themselves around her torso.

"Are you okay?" he voice sounded out abruptly behind her, piercing her thoughts with a level of concern and emotion that made her old heart beat at a pace it was not healthy enough to sustain.

"You weren't outside today, and I thought something bad had happened to you! Don't scare me like that!" he bellowed in his baritone, and the rapid palpitation of his frantic heart could be felt with the arm that was trapped tightly between his heaving chest and her rigid one. His face was scrawled with worry, eyes flashing with an unlikely hint of fear. It was unbecoming of him, but still, she looked away and tried to escape from his bear hug, though his unmistakable warmth made her remember things she dearly missed.

He didn't want to let her go, gently pacifying her with stubborn hands, choosing to keep oddly silent.

And why hadn't he done this within the last fifteen years? Let her know how much she meant to him?

He should have held her in place when she was staggering and faltering all this time, reminded her how she used to relax and curl into his gallant hold – the memories were overwhelming, and the tears finally leaked out of her old, dark eyes, falling into the lapping waves at her ankles. She clung to him and weeped into his bare shoulder soundlessly, feeling his hands carefully cup her elbows to hold her steady and introduce her to a large hug that was now nearly a stranger. But she could smell his sweat and feel his fading abs, and it almost felt like she was twenty-five and naïve, a young woman in foolish love.

"… Sorry…"

She blinked and shook her head as he propped his chin over the crown of her long, messy hair. And they stayed like that until her eyes were dry and his heart filled whole.

* * *

end


End file.
